


face to the sun

by canvases (oilpaints)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 00:56:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10820352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oilpaints/pseuds/canvases
Summary: Shirabu Kenjirou, as told by friends both old and new.Kawatabi clicks his tongue. “I still don’t get why you were born in spring,” he says. “You’re so bitter and cold. More of a winter child, if you ask me.”Shirabu just shrugs lightly, lips tugged upwards in a faint smile. “But I didn’t ask you,” he says. “And besides, spring is all about new beginnings, isn’t it?”





	face to the sun

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday to our darling shirabu! i hope he gets taller and eats all the whitebait he wants. also, since no one seems to be acknowledging that he and kawatabi went to the same middle school, i thought, ‘hey, why not?’ may as well be me. 
> 
> anyways, hope you enjoy!

The first thing Kawatabi says to Shirabu Kenjirou after seeing him again after two years apart is, “You haven’t gotten much taller.”

Shirabu’s eyes narrow at him from under his fringe—just as ruler-straight as they were in middle school—and he holds his armful of groceries closer to his chest. “I’m sorry, I... _wait._ Kawatabi-san?”

He grins. “That’s me,” he says. “What’s up, Shirabu-kun?”

Shirabu fidgets awkwardly. “Sorry, it was hard to recognize you without your ponytail,” he says, carefully settling down his purchases on the counter. He sets a few packets of strawberry jelly onto the counter and leaves _and because_ _it’s been two years_ left unsaid, buried under crinkling bags of potato chips and bottles of soda.

Kawatabi laughs, waving it off as he rings up the items. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?” he says. “How’ve you been these days?”

“I’ve been well,” he replies politely, casting a glance out the door, held open by a broken plastic chair he found in the back to let the early afternoon breezes in. Kawatabi smiles and takes no offense—he hadn’t been expecting a reunion today, either.

“Just letting the spring breezes in,” Kawatabi says, and Shirabu startles, meeting his gaze again. “Speaking of _spring,_ isn’t your birthday around this time?”

Shirabu goes still as the birds continue to sing outside, the sunrays wandering into the small convenience store to rest upon his hands, which are rested on the counter. “Yes,” he says softly. “It’s tomorrow, but I came home to celebrate today.”

Kawatabi’s eyes widen. He hears the tree branches snap in the wind. “Happy birthday, then, Shirabu-kun!” he says, grinning widely. The leaves rustle and send dew and dandelions dancing into the air. “You should’ve told me sooner, I could just let you have some stuff for free.”

“Oh no,” he says hurriedly, fishing out his wallet. “Thank you, Kawatabi-san, but it’s fine.”

“Sure?”

Shirabu returns his raised eyebrows. “Sure,” he says, turning up his palms, closing and opening them like he’s trying to catch the sunlight. Kawatabi laughs. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just—” he wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to keep the fond memories in his head. “You’ve always been such a stubborn brat, even you were my kouhai.”

Shirabu smiles faintly. “You and my seniors have something in common, then,” he says. “I didn’t know you worked here, now.”

“ _Eh,_ needed a job after graduating high school, and my girlfriend’s family owns the place.”

“Finally got yourself a girlfriend?” he asks, brushing his hair out of his face. _He did that all the time in middle school,_ Kawatabi recalls fondly. But middle school has come and gone, and Shirabu is wearing a plain t-shirt instead of his bold _Toyokuro_ jersey or his stiff uniform.

“You really are still a brat,” he says. “Some things never change, I guess.”

“I guess,” he repeats, and Kawatabi realizes that he’s stopped scanning the items. He smiles sheepishly and gets back to work. Awkwardly, Shirabu asks, “How have _you_ been?”

“Great, thanks,” he says, grinning. He finishes scanning everything and totals the price. “Okay, but speaking of _girlfriends,_ have you got yourself a lucky gal?”

“Well,” Shirabu says, neatly plucking out several crisp bills, “yes, something like that?”

The register pops open and Kawatabi hardly bothers counting the money before putting them all in. “Good to hear,” he says. “How’s Shiratorizawa been treating you? It’s a shame we never got to play against each other in high school. And hey, now you’re starting third year, right? Man, does time fly.”

“It’s been good,” Shirabu says, with a spark in his eyes and that says that it’s been far more than that. “And it has. It almost feels like I’ve been wasting time.”

“No way. Kane-yan—you remember him—watched one of your matches, and _man,_  apparently you’ve turned into some kind of firework or something.” Kawatabi hands him his bag of purchases back, winking. “Keep burning, kid.”

“That’s not really the purpose of a firework,” Shirabu says, taking the bag and balancing the strap like a weighing scale. “But thank you. I will.”

“You better. I’ll be watching ’ya. Oh, and before you go!”

“Yes, Kawatabi-san?”

He smiles warmly. “Drop by sometime and we can get ice cream with some of the guys, my treat,” he says. He fidgets with the hair resting at the nape of his neck, unsure of how Shirabu is going to answer. “If you want,” he adds, because Shirabu has never been a _social butterfly_ , but he’s mostly pleasant company, and two years is a long time.

“I can’t do that tomorrow, because my, _ah,_ ” he ducks his head, “partner will be celebrating with me, I think. But I might be able to go home again in a few weeks.”

“I almost forgot you go to a fancy boarding school. But I meant anytime you want, y’know? Just let me know, I’m always around.”

“Alright,” he says, soft but entirely sincere. “See you, then, Kawatabi-san.”

“See ’ya, Shirabu,” Kawatabi grins. He watches his back as he goes, lit by the afternoon light like he’s walking straight towards the sun. He remembers middle school with sudden clarity, fast and ridiculously accurate tosses from long, thin fingers wrapped in sports tape. With a chuckle, he recalls how Shirabu would even give him a high-five if he were lucky.

Oh, those were the days, but life is just as golden now as it was before. Just in a different way.

 

* * *

 

“Kenjirou isn’t here,” Kawanishi says, lounging lazily on his bed, the sheets strewn everywhere. “He’s at home, celebrating.”

“I know that,” Semi says, and if Kawanishi strains his ears, he might hear him rolling his eyes. “I called _you._ Because I want to talk to _you._ ”

“I’m afraid I’m not interested in you, Semi-san,” he drawls. “You have a boyfriend, and he would bury both of us alive if he finds out."

“Is it just me, or have you gotten more insufferable?”

He shrugs, shifting to bring his phone closer to his ear. “Someone needed to take Tendou-san’s place, and I was the only one willing to take the job,” he says. “Anyway, why did you call?”

“About said boyfriend.”

Kawanishi shifts again, rubbing at his eyes. He sneezes. Semi still doesn’t say anything. He moves again, kicking his blanket off. He sniffles. Semi _still_ doesn’t say a word. “Are you going to talk, or are my allergies going to kill me first?”

“So _that’s_ why you’re so snarky today. I thought I was talking to Kenjirou for a moment.”

“Semi-san,” he says.

“I don’t know what to get Kenjirou for his birthday,” Semi says, at last, hurriedly. “Is that bad? We’ve been dating for two years. I think that’s bad.”

Kawanishi chokes on a laugh, trying to swallow it down— _dammit,_  his throat still feels sore, _he hates spring_ —because Semi sounds so genuinely concerned, and he knows that he cares about Kenjirou a lot, but Kawanishi can’t help it if he’s not in a reasonable state of mind right now.

“Are you _laughing_?”

“No. Yes. Sorry Semi-san. It’s just... what did you get him last year, and the year before that?”

“Nothing. He made it _very_ clear that he didn’t want anything. I just really want to get him something this time.”

Kawanishi knows that they haven’t seen one another properly since school began, with Shirabu’s captain duties and piles of schoolwork, and Semi’s settling into college. That’s probably why he’s so jittery. Kawanishi isn’t good at comforting people. Awkwardly, he shifts again, his legs dangling off the bed. “Don’t,” he says. “I think the best you can do is catch the train and make it there on time. He misses you, even if he’s too stubborn to say it out loud.”

“I might be a bit too stubborn, too.”

“I think you can give up your pride, just this once. And maybe film his reaction and send it to me, thanks.”

Semi laughs. “I guess I could. Thanks Kawanishi.”

“Will you send me a video or not?”

“ _Bye,_  Kawanishi.”

 

* * *

 

Kawatabi sees Shirabu again, the next morning. It’s still early, and everything is soaked in the pale sunlight. _Like butter,_  he thinks. Shirabu greets him with a nod and a slight smile before hurrying off the the aisles, his phone clutched tightly in his hands.

He re-emerges with a carton of milk and his phone now tucked under his ear. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, rolling his eyes. “ _Yes_ , I said yes, didn’t I? Shut up, it’s my birthday, and—shut up, I’m not petty.”

Kawatabi raises his eyebrows, smirking. Shirabu continues to absently eye the sodas and other bottles drinks stacked in the refrigerators, shifting the milk carton under his arm, completely immersed in the conversation. It’s early enough that the store is empty, and his voice seems to fill the silence. He doesn’t seem to care.

Kawatabi half-listens to the bickering, flipping through his magazine. He stops when silence fills the store, and Shirabu has gone quiet. His eyes are cast downwards, face lit by the ugly refrigerator lights, expression soft.

 _Ah,_ he chuckles. _Probably talking to that girlfriend—or something—that he mentioned._

“I miss you, too,” he says, very suddenly but also very quietly. It feels like it echoes. Kawatabi shakes his head, distracting himself. Even in middle school, Shirabu was never one for heartfelt confessions. He’d been intruding on something very private and just as precious. “Yeah, bye.”

Kawatabi continues to act like he hadn’t heard a thing, hadn’t caught the murmured _I love you_ after the call was long finished. Mei-chan—his girlfriend—would scold him for being a gossip and her pretty cheeks would flush with irritation. Shirabu would probably, possibly attempt to murder him.

And so when Shirabu walks up to the counter with blush the same color as the carton of strawberry milk he’s holding, he resolves not to say a word.

“ _Shit,_ I got the wrong kind,” he says. “I needed normal milk, we ran out and my mother needs her cereal or she’ll go mad.”

“S’alright, go run and get your boring, unflavoured milk, Shirabu-kun.”

“Who has cereal with strawberry milk?”

Kawatabi just laughs, and it melts into a more subdued smile. “I had a teammate in high school who did. Anyways, it’s your _real_ birthday today, right?” He smiles cheekily. “Want me to sing for you?”

His nose scrunches up a little. “No thank you.”

Kawatabi clicks his tongue. “I still don’t get why you were born in spring,” he says. “You’re so bitter and cold. More of a winter child, if you ask me.”

Shirabu just shrugs lightly, lips tugged upwards in a faint smile. “But I didn’t ask you,” he says. “And besides, spring is all about _new beginnings,_ isn’t it?”

Kawatabi snorts, but his words are the simple truth. “Yeah,” he says. “And you’re pretty good at those—or maybe you’re just lucky.”

 

* * *

 

“Kenjirou,” Kawanishi says. “Happy birthday. I’m still older than you.”

A snort on the other end of the line. “Taichi, you act like a five year old.”

“A five year old that’s taller than you.”

“I hope you go choke on pollen and die,” Shirabu says, but it lacks the usual bite to it, and there’s a laugh softening the edges, light and airy. He’s so obviously in a good mood that Kawanishi almost feels better. _Almost,_  he thinks miserably, rubbing at his eyes again.

“I’m in the process of doing that, thanks.”

“Did you take your med—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m more interested in why you’re so cheery today.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. When is Semi-san gonna get there?” Kawanishi asks with a knowing smile on his face. He rolls over again in bed, huffing in annoyance at his inability to get comfortable.

“Uh... two or three hours,” he says, and in a hurried attempt to disguise the excitement in his voice, adds, “probably.”

“ _Probably,_ ” Kawanishi mocks.

“Shut up. What is it with people teasing me more on my birthday, anyway?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you like me to sing for you?”

“I’d rather you not.”

“Too late,” he says, grinning lazily.

He sings the whole birthday song, and they both laugh and sputter their way through it, purposefully singing too high or too low. Kawanishi chuckles along. It isn’t _his_ birthday, and he’s pretty much bedridden, but he’s happy, and so is Shirabu.

“Say hi to Semi-san for me later. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“I’m going to have fun _because_ you aren’t here,” Shirabu says, voice teasing. “Don’t mess up our dorm room. Bye, Taichi.”

 

* * *

 

Kawatabi leans his elbow on the counter. “Mei-chan,” he calls out. His girlfriend looks up from where she’s re-stocking the mints, brushing her glossy black hair out of her eyes, raising her eyebrows. “Have you—”

He pauses, turning to stare out the door when he catches the airy lilt of laughter riding with the spring breezes. Shirabu passes by, eyes shining in a way Kawatabi has never seen before. Another boy with dip-dyed hair walks next to him, and their fingers are loosely intertwined as they laugh carelessly.

Shirabu catches his gaze for a moment, and his grip on the other boy’s—his boyfriend?—slips. Kawatabi shakes his head and smiles, winking. Their hands lace again. He watches other boy’s grip grows unspeakably tighter.

“Have I what?” Mei asks, sidling up to him. “And who was that?”

He grins at her. “Old junior I had in middle school.”

“Oh, the one you told me about? _Shirabu-kun,_ was it?” Kawatabi nods. She smiles sweetly. “Well, that’s lovely and all, but you still have work to do, Shunki, so get to it.”

“Yes, boss,” he laughs, before casting another glance out the door. The sun glows even brighter as their backs fade from view.


End file.
